


Stay A While

by Momma_Time



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Washington is a little shit, snowed in au, soft alex, soft thomas, sort of christmasy, this is how low I've fallen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-06 05:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10326797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Momma_Time/pseuds/Momma_Time
Summary: Washington sends Alex to deliver something, with a plan to get Thomas and Alex to get along, knowing that there will be a blizzard.





	1. Kiss the Cook

**Author's Note:**

> IDEK about this.

It should have been a simple delivery.  
  
For whatever reason Jefferson didn't have a fax machine--actually no, it was understandable because who the hell needs a fax machine when you have email, right? Whatever. Washington had a massive binder that he needed Alex to deliver to Jefferson. Who was in his home out of state. Who Washington should have overnighted the thing to the guy as it would have been faster than this, but noooooo, he wanted it done immediately and privately.  
  
Alex grumbled to himself the whole drive there, unhappy about the cold weather, unhappy that he was spending his time off on a road trip he didn't want or need, and more. It just wasn't fair, all right?  
  
It took several hours, but Alex finally made it to the--what he could only describe as a mansion. He texted Washington to let him know that he was here and then crammed the phone into his pocket. Just hand the man the clipped folder, wait for him to sign it, and then head back to DC. Simple, right?  
  
Jefferson knew he was coming and had the door open for Alex by the time he ascended the stairs to the front door. "Welcome to my humble abode!"  
  
"It's almost as big as your ego," Alex grumbled, stepping inside and reluctantly removing his coat. Jefferson motioned to the coat hook by the door and then ordered him to remove his shoes, so he didn't track in any dirt. After following his demands, Alex all but threw the yellow envelope at Jefferson.  
  
"Please get this over with so I can go home." He was tired and didn't have time for this bull crap.  
  
"Trust me; I'll rush through this thing to get rid of you, gremlin."  
  
Alex trailed behind him to the study and dropped down onto the closest chair to the fireplace, sighing at the comfortable warmth; he didn't realize how tired he was and was out cold in a few minutes.  
  
\--  
  
Thomas took a seat at his desk, immediately opening the envelope and skimming the packet; this was going to take a while, he could tell. He settled in, sipping his tea every so often as he worked, and didn't notice that his guest was asleep until he glanced up to figure out why Hamilton hadn't said a word in well over an hour. That wasn't like the man.  
  
"Huh. He does sleep." Thomas studied him a moment, noting how the relaxed expression was like looking at a whole other person. There wasn't any pent-up anger or energy to be found, and Thomas found himself thinking that it was creepy and sweet at the same time. He wondered if the man ever looked this at ease in his life, in his waking hours. It didn't seem possible, as the man never stopped working, and would find a way to continue even if you tied him down. Hamilton was near unstoppable once he started going.  
  
Apparently, his weakness was burn out.  
  
He had heard that Hamilton didn't sleep much, and had an unhealthy habit of forgetting to eat. No wonder the man is thin as a rail, Thomas thought.  
  
After a few more minutes of studying his enemy, Thomas slowly went back to work, but his eyes kept flicking back up to Hamilton to see if he'd moved any.  
  
His next puzzle was trying to figure out why Washington needed Hamilton to hand deliver this to him. There were other ways to go about it that would have been safer for national security. With how easily arguments started between them, Thomas was amazed that they hadn't initiated a civil war.  
  
It wasn't until he got to the last page that he figured out why. There, printed at the top, was a picture of a weather radar for the weekend; they were getting snow apparently. The problem lay in the words below it.  
  
_**There's going to be a blizzard this weekend. You two work it out and don't come back until you're civil with one another.**_  
  
_**-W**_  
 _ **PS: This is your early Christmas present.**_  
  
Ugh. Washington. The man wanted them to make peace? Thomas wanted a Lambo, but that didn't mean he had the means or desire to; the same could be said of his relationship with Hamilton. Just because they could make peace, didn't mean they wanted or had to. And what in the hell was the present thing supposed to be about?  
  
Glaring at the note, Thomas set it to the side and stood. Another glance at Hamilton, and Thomas decided to go make dinner. He may as well, if Hamilton was going to be stuck here a few days. If they were going to be hit with a blizzard, Thomas didn't want Hamilton trying to drive back in that; he wasn't completely heartless, despite how he talked to the guy. And it was more than that. Thomas genuinely enjoyed having the man around, even if he was annoying. Hamilton was intelligent, energetic, a pain in the neck, but bickering with him was a bright spot in Thomas' day.  
  
Whatever. All feelings aside, it was time for dinner.  
  
\--  
  
Alex woke up to the smell of something warm and spicy and nearly fell off the couch when he straightened himself. Jefferson was gone and the fire was dying, but that smell was seeping into the room and Alex's stomach rumbled in response to it. So, Alex got up and followed the smell out of the study and to the kitchen, where Jefferson was cooking. And was that an apron? Please let it be an embarrassing one.  
  
He was proven right when Jefferson turned around to stir something on the island and the words "kiss the chef" were printed on it. Alex tried to suppress his grin, but it was hard to when the man, who was always so classy and put together, was standing there in jeans and a t-shirt and barefoot and large-rimmed glasses with a ridiculous apron on. It was slightly adorable, sort of, but it was funny too. Alex slipped his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick picture for himself; once he pocketed his phone again, Alex finally announced himself.  
  
"Nice apron. How much did it cost? Is it Ralph Lauren? Or is that too cheap for your tastes?" he teased, leaning against a counter.  
  
Jefferson startled, looking up at him with wide eyes and freezing mid stir. He quickly found himself and shot Alex a cocky smirk, "Jealous? Tempted to follow through?"  
  
Oh, Alex was going to make him eat his words.  
  
With a smirk of his own, Alex sauntered over to Jefferson, standing on his toes to lean in, only to snatch a carrot slice from the bowl Jefferson was working with and slipping passed him. A second startled expression in less than a minute just made his day. "Mmm, carrots. You know what would go well with that?" When Jefferson didn't answer, Alex continued. "Your salty tears when I one-up you next week at work."  
  
Jefferson's lips twitch towards a smile, but he covered it with a scoff and a dismissive wave. "Yeah, right. I'm sure it'll be yours, shrimp."  
  
"Tch, dream on."  
  
"'Aight, get over here. If you want to eat, you're helping me make dinner." Alex wasn't able to argue with him because by the time he formed a response, Jefferson already had a spoon in his hand and Alex was stirring the soup Jefferson making.  
  
They worked quietly, aside from the occassional instruction from Jefferson, but after a while, Jefferson spoke up. "Washington told me that there's going to be a blizzard over the weekend and that it was very likely that you'll be stuck here until it passes."  
  
Alex dropped the spoon in shock, the boiling broth splattering onto his arm. He swore and scurried to the sink to run cool water over it. "Like hell I will."  
  
"I hate to break it to you, but there's already several inches now. The roads will be icy and it's dark out. You'll just crash and die. And while that would make my life easier, I don't think Washington would like that very much." Jefferson pulled a red plastic box from under the sink and dug around until he brough out a cream. "Lemme see your arm."  
  
Alex reluctantly held it out after drying it. "I thought you weren't supposed to put burn creams on burns."  
  
"You can if it's water based. If it's not water based, it'll do more harm than good to your skin." He hummed and watched Jefferson wash his hands before putting the cream on, spreading it with his finger to make sure it covered everything. "They don't look too bad or anything but I'd rather be sure."  
  
When Jefferson finished, he washed his hands again and they went back to work.  
  
"Do I really have to stay the weekend? I don't have anything here."  
  
"I have a few things of James' for when he visits that should fit you." Jefferson stirred in the last of the ingredients and then started spooning it into bowls.  
  
"Okay but what about underwear? I doubt he'd appreciate commando..." That had Jefferson snorting with laughter.  
  
"I'm sure there are a few of those too."  
  
They sat down and Alex actually hummed happily at the flavor of the soup and they ate in silence. It was odd; they were normally at each other's throats within a minute or two of being in the same room. Maybe it was because they don't have any major topics to bicker over.  
  
_You can survive this, Alex_ , he told himself.


	2. Accept Your Fate

Alex peeked out the window of the kitchen to see if Jefferson was right about the snow when he was supposed to be helping clean up their dinner dishes. It turned out that the man wasn't lying. There were a few inches of snow covering the ground outside, and it was still falling. If this was just the beginning of a snow storm, he hated to see how bad it would actually get.

"Do you have enough supplies to keep us if we're stuck here at the house?"

"Yeah, I knew we were getting snow and all, but I didn't realize we were getting an all out blizzard. It'll only be a couple of days, probably. The weather men and women have been known to be wrong before so who's to say that they aren't this time?" Jefferson passed Alex a bowl to dry.

"And do you have enough if they're wrong?"

"Hell no. I'll just have to eat you." Jefferson poked Alex's stomach. "On second thought, I'd starve. There's no meat on your bones."

"Rude."

"Would you rather be pudgy enough for cannibalism?" He set the silverware on a towel and then started on the pots and cutting board.

Alex said nothing, deciding that this wasn't an argument that he wanted to have. He knew he was thin from being too busy to worry about his weight, and he never really thought about his appearance until someone pointed it out. "I um, so, what are we going to do for the next few days because we'll kill each other by noon tomorrow if we don't plan ahead."

Jefferson set his hands on the edge of the sink, the dishcloth he held in his right-hand half submerged in the sudsy water. "Does your brain ever stop? You're always working, always plotting, never staying still. How in the hell do you live like that?"

"Well, no, it doesn't stop, which is why I keep working. It doesn't shut up and turn off for a moment's peace, so I wind up working until I fall out because I can't sleep if my mind is still racing." Among other things. His mania was a pain in the ass and he only just changed his medicine, so it wasn't working very well yet. Maybe he'd finally slow down when it built up in his system. The nap earlier was promising. Although, Hercules, for all of his loud and rowdy behavior, had a way of helping Alex slow down a little. Alex wouldn't completely stop, but Hercules could help him relax and focus on one thing that wouldn't exhaust him. "You know how when you were in middle school, and you went to the cafeteria for lunch, and it was loud and chaotic? Kids are talking over each other and laughing, noise from trays and forks, announcements overhead and it was just madness? That's my head, every second of the day."

"And you're still sane, how?"

"I'm more stubborn than a mule."

Jefferson nodded at this, smirking as he finished the last of the dishes. "That's an understatement."

Alex elbowed him.

\--

Thomas didn't understand how Alex was living like that. Didn't they have things to help with that? Like, medicine to help someone sleep or something? He thought about asking but thought better of it.

"Hamilton, you don't have your medicine on you, do you?"

The younger man stopped drying a moment to think and then nodded, "I keep it in the glovebox of my car and take it on the way to work with my coffee. How do I not forget to take it? I always, without fail, have a little coffee slosh out, and I need a wipe to clean it back up. It's a good reminder."

Huh. Whatever works for people.

At least he had it with him.

"Before it gets worse outside, I recommend fetching before the handle freezes and you're stuck trying to melt and scrape the ice back off to get to it. I'll finish up here."

Hamilton nodded and darted out of the kitchen.

Thomas finished in silence, thinking about how they were going to survive this blizzard. Things were going well so far, but he didn't know how long it would last for them. At any moment, they could be back at each other's throats.

Dishes were done and put away, Thomas made for the sitting room and started a fire before heading upstairs to change for bed. Maybe watching TV or reading a book would be a nice way to relax before bed. While he was gone, he gathered some of James' old things for Hamilton to borrow and then went looking for him. The man was stomping snow off of his shoes at the door—outside, bless him; he wasn't raised in a barn unlike what Thomas had assumed—when Thomas found him, and he waited until Alex came inside and locked the door behind him.

Thomas held out the pile of clothes, "Here. I'll show you to your room, all right?"

Hamilton nodded slowly and followed him up the stairs to a grand room, where Thomas had the smug satisfaction of seeing Hamilton's jaw drop. The smirk on his face grew when he heard the shorter man grumble about "rich people."

"Enjoy the hot water while you can; if the power goes out, so does the hot water."

"I take cold showers anyway, so I won't be bothered by it. You, however..." Hamilton smirked at Thomas and set the clothes at the foot of the four-poster bed.

"You do remember that the pipes could freeze, even if I do leave all spouts dripping, and that water won't just be cold, but you'll come out with blue fingers and an even smaller, shriveled up dick." Thomas leaned against the doorway, "You poor thing."

He was pleased to see the blush creeping up Hamilton's neck and face as embarrassment set in, "How in the hell would you know what size I am? Have you been looking?"

"Ew, no." He tried at the staff retreat to the lake when Hamilton was sporting swim shorts and heavens, he was pretty like that—but he didn't see anything, unfortunately. "Shoe size shrimp."

"That has nothing to do with it, and I'll have you know that I am at the top end of average." Hamilton sniffed and gathered the clothes. "Now, where are the towels and do you have anything I can borrow to wash with?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night princess." He disappeared for a minute and came back with two different soaps and shampoo. Thomas would never admit that he was looking forward to Hamilton smelling like him, not that he'd be able to catch a whiff of anything.  
  
Alex flipped him off and then disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Thomas to head down to the sitting room to make himself comfortable for the evening. Honestly, things could be worse. He was in his favorite pajamas, there was a fire going, and he had the impossible choice of reading of Netflix. Wait, no. Hamilton said Cake Boss. Now, he liked the show, but should he pay attention to it or should he let Hamilton watch it on his own and get back to his book? Decisions, decisions.  
  
He grabbed his current read, Dracula, and set it to the side while he pulled up Cake Boss for Hamilton to watch when he finished showering. Standing, he strode to the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle of wine for them to have a glass to finish off their evening. Hey, he was a man of taste, in his opinion, and no evening was perfect until he'd had a glass.  
  
When Hamilton joined him downstairs about ten minutes later, he zeroed in on the two wine glasses, waiting to be filled, and shook his head. "I appreciate it, and as much as I'd like to, I can't."  
  
"What do you mean you can't?" Thomas shrugged and poured his own, leaving the other empty.  
  
"My medication." That was answer enough for Thomas, who nodded and stood to put the bottle and empty glass away.  
  
"Would you like something else?"  
  
"Coffee?"  
  
Thomas motioned in the direction of the kitchen, "Go help yourself. Coffee is in the cabinet above the Keurig."  
  
No wine for Hamilton in the future then. Shame, as Thomas would have liked to loosen his tongue a little to find out if he had any dirty secrets. Oh well.


	3. Always Say The Wrong Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas screws up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up that at the end, Alex is sort of hating on himself. I don't think it's anything that would be harmful to others but I figured that it'd be best to put this warning here anyway.

They settled in for the night on the sofa, curled up under blankets as they watched Cake Boss. It was a weird thing for them to be bonding over, but at least no one had died yet. Small miracles, right?

Thomas sipped his wine quietly, glancing over at Hamilton, who was sitting on his feet and leaning forward a little with a grin on his face. The guy looked like an overgrown kid with the way he was holding himself and watching the show. And, okay, it was endearing to Thomas, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap the guy up in even more blankets and probably shower him with pillows and call him cute. Maybe. Hamilton would kill him for thinking it.

Damn Washington for thinking this was a good idea.

He set his empty wine glass on the side table and watched Hamilton more than the show, finding the man's expressions to be far more interesting. How could he not with how Hamilton would laugh now and then, or grimace at someone's grammar? The laugh was sweet, not the biting sound of when they were at work and arguing over something stupid.

"I don't think I've ever heard you laugh like that, Hamilton." He finally said.

"Hm?" Hamilton turned his attention to Thomas a moment, processing the comment before responding with. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"Care to share?"

"Trust my enemy with my tragic backstory and my idea of the perfect weekend? You're crazy." Hamilton smirked and shifted his gaze back to the show. "I don't think I could trust you further than I could throw you."

Harsh.

Thomas really wanted to know what made the guy tick, and so he threw Hamilton a bone. "I have severe social anxiety."

"You?" He had Hamilton's attention again. "Liar."

"No, you can ask James. I have to take a Xanax before I go to a party or speak. I hide in the bathroom to take breaks from the chaos."

"I figured you just had a weak bladder."

"Nope. Just recovering to survive the night."

"Huh." Hamilton was silent, and Thomas forced his eyes to the television to wait and see if it worked.

"I have asthma. That's another reason I hate the cold. It doesn't agree with me." Not what he was expecting, but Thomas would take it.

"Do you have an inhaler for it? Shit, please tell me you have it."

"Chill, Jefferson. I always have it in the winter. Though, at the moment, it's sitting on the nightstand. I'll only need it if it gets cold in here or if I go outside for longer than five or so minutes." Hamilton offered Thomas a flippant wave, "Don't worry. I'm not going to die and leave you to ruin our country and live a peaceful life."

"I have a feeling you'd haunt me if you died before me," Thomas muttered. What a way to spend the rest of his life...

"No. I'd rather see my mother, thank you very much. She's worth my eternity, not your sorry ass."

"What happened to her?"

"She died."

Thomas huffed, "No shit, Sherlock. How, if I'm allowed to ask?"

"She was very sick. We both were. I survived it, and she didn't. That's all you need to know." There we go, Thomas thought. That's something, even if it wasn't much, although he felt a little guilty for poking at Hamilton for information on his mother. The light dying in his eyes was hard to swallow.

"Dad died of a heart attack when I was fourteen. Ma passed from breast cancer when I was nineteen." He paused before continuing, "I think I would want the same."

"Did we just have a moment?"

Thomas grimaced, "I believe so." He snorted when Hamilton shuttered.

"Gross. Let's never do that again."

"Ha! I make no promises. Near death experiences can do that to people."

Hamilton whipped his head around, eyes wide. "Wait. You think we could die because of this storm?"

"Pfft, no. I was just—never mind. Ignore that." He could tell Hamilton wasn't happy with his flippant attitude towards their situation but what the hell did Hamilton want from him?  
  
"Want to tell me about her?" Thomas prompted.  
  
Hamilton's gaze was sharp, critical as he tried to decide as to whether or not it would be safe to share that information with Thomas. "I'll be right back."  
  
He stood and scurried out of the room. Thomas could hear him trot up the steps and then back down a few moments later. Hamilton dropped onto the sofa heavily, holding out a photograph for Thomas to take. The woman was beautiful, and Thomas could pick out where Hamilton got his looks. They had the same eyes, sharp and intelligent, but there was warmth in them. A bright smile that Thomas had only seen a few times on Hamilton. Her curls shone brightly, full and healthy. There was a floppy hat on her head with a scarf around it that she had to hold down against an invisible wind. The beach behind her was an unearthly shade of crystal blue, and it made her stand out with her honey brown tan.  
  
"She's beautiful," he murmured. Thomas looked up at Hamilton to find him staring at Thomas strangely. He took the picture back hesitantly when Thomas held it out to him.  
  
"Yeah, she was. The prettiest woman I've ever met." Hamilton grinned as he slipped it back into his wallet. "But don't go ogling her. That's my mother you sick bastard."  
  
They both cracked up, and Thomas stood to retrieve a frame above the fireplace, passing it to Hamilton when he came back. "My parents, me, and my younger sister Elizabeth."  
  
"I didn't know you had a sister." Hamilton held the frame carefully as he studied the smiling family. "Aw, you were adorable. What happened?"  
  
Scoffing, Thomas lightly shoved Hamilton's shoulder. "Shut it. I'm gorgeous."  
  
"Eh, up for debate."  
  
"Remember when we had that vote last year and I won the most attractive category?"  
  
"That doesn't mean anything. Beauty is a matter of opinion based on social grooming for what is and is not attractive." A weak argument.  
  
"Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that. I'm hot, and everyone thinks so." He took the picture back and set it in its place.  
  
"I don't." Liar. Thomas had seen Hamilton check his name during the voting.  
  
"Well, you're a blind asshole. You're just salty because you lost that category."  
  
"I didn't know I was an option until they were passing out the ballots." Hamilton burrowed into the blankets after depositing his wallet onto the coffee table.  
  
"That's 'cause I put you on it," Thomas admitted with a smirk, teasing him. Yes, he thought the guy was attractive.  
  
Hamilton's expression fell a little, and Thomas wondered what he'd said that caused it. "So you knew you'd win and put me on it anyway to humiliate me?"  
  
Thomas didn't have an answer. At the time, yes, it was just to have something to rub into Hamilton's face, but it wasn't until it was time to vote that he checked off Hamilton's name. An honest opinion that he stuck to during the vote.  
  
"I see." They fell silent, tense as Thomas tried to work out how to explain himself, while he watched Hamilton's internal battle. He knew anger was one of the emotions that Hamilton was fighting with, but he didn't know the others until Hamilton hopped to his feet, a smile plastered on his face. "Well, I'll spare you the discomfort of my ugly mug and head for bed. I've been on the road all day, and I'm tired. Good night, Mr. Jefferson."  
  
Formal. The guy was never formal with Thomas unless something was bothering him.  
  
"Hamilton, wait. I--" Hamilton gave him a dismissive wave and left Thomas there to think about what just happened.  
  
\--  
  
Alex felt more humiliated now than he had back at that stupid party they'd attended where the votes for most attractive, funniest, etc. happened. The loss back then wasn't so bad, and he'd let it go easily, but knowing that Jefferson had done it specifically to humiliate him was a little more painful. At least everyone had been honest. Jefferson was gorgeous, and Alex was just...Alex. His growth was slightly stunted from his rough childhood; he didn't get enough sleep, and it showed, but that wasn't anything he could help; he was indoors a lot and his naturally tan skin had lightened unnaturally; his hair was usually bedraggled because he didn't take the time to worry about it with how there were more important things to do with his time; and the list went on. He was attractive to an extent, or was when he was younger and took better care of himself, but now he was just tired and apathetic to presenting himself the way he used to.  
  
He stood in front of the floor length mirror in his bathroom, taking in the flaws and sighing. Yep. The conversation was definitely a confidence booster.  
  
Alex turned off the lights and crawled into bed with a huff. He didn't have time to worry about what Jefferson thought of him.


	4. Entertainment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast and collecting supplies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School is coming to a close and I've got fic commissions and I'm still job hunting so all of my posting is slow and I am sorry about that guys.

When Alex woke in the morning, the light was shining through a crack between the curtains, causing a beam of light to fall over, you guessed it, his face. If he could turn off the sun, that would make his morning. Sadly, it didn't go away, and Alex had to face the music.

He crawled out of bed and rubbed at his face, trying to get rid of the sleep seeds in his eyes and wake himself up a little. Throwing on a hoodie and slipping his glasses on, Alex padded out of the room. His stomach rumbled, and he was left wondering if he was allowed to make his own breakfast or if he needed to wait for Jefferson to get up. His question was answered when he made it to the kitchen and found Thomas already making breakfast. Omelets, it looked like.

"Is there enough for me?"

It startled Jefferson, and a bit of egg flipped out of the pan with his spatula. "Uh, I, yes. Yes, I'm making enough for two. What do you like in yours?"

"Anything but ham. I hate the texture of pork."

"Weirdo. What about bacon?"

"Turkey bacon." Alex hopped onto the counter by the stove to watch Jefferson cook.

"Eugh, heathen. Natural selection will weed out the non-pork bacon eaters." Jefferson smirked slightly and flipped the folded eggs over. "Things would be so much more peaceful."

"I'm not leaving this country in your incapable hands, Jefferson," he shot back. Alex made his way to the coffee pot and started making enough for four cups, not knowing how much Jefferson drank. Alex, for his part, lived on the stuff.

They took their seats and ate silently, focusing on trying to wake up. The food was good, and Alex was pleased. He usually stuck to just a bowl of oatmeal and honey with a banana for breakfast, if he ate breakfast at all; this was a nice change of pace. Not that he would tell Jefferson that; Alex wouldn't give the man the satisfaction of knowing that Alex actually liked something he did. Besides, Alex was still a little sore from the night before and really didn't want to please Jefferson in any way.  
  
Yes, he was still hurt and embarrassed, but Alex wouldn't allow himself to show that Jefferson had done any damage.  
  
"Soooo what are we doing with our time today? Honestly, I don't want to go to jail for murdering you, even if it'd be worth it, but uh, yeah." Alex set his fork down.  
  
"I was going to go over what Washington sent over one more time and then relax with a book or something. So long as you don't touch or break anything, I don't care what you do. Oh, and don't go into my room."  
  
Alex stood and followed Thomas into the kitchen. He wrinkled his nose. "Why in the hell would I want to go into your lair? There's probably bones from past victims or something. You look like the serial killer type."  
  
"Gee. Thanks." Jefferson deadpanned and snatched Alex's plate and fork, setting them in the sink to wash. "You can dry."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you are currently under my roof and you will help clean up after yourself. I don't allow slobs in my home." Jefferson poked Alex in the chest roughly to punctuate his point.  
  
"I'm not a slob. I do my dishes at night, is all." He'd wait until the end of the day and do everything at once. And by that he means, he throws it into the dishwasher and goes to bed and makes for his laptop again to keep working.  
  
"So you leave your dishes to sit around all day, stinking up your home? Eugh." Jefferson passed Alex the dishes after he rinsed them.  
  
Alex grumbled quietly about snooty, neat-freak Republicans, and while he knew Jefferson could hear him, he didn't care and continued. He noted the smile tugging at the side of Jefferson's lips whenever Alex mumbled a swear or not so subtle insult, and it was ALMOST enough of an incentive for him to continue; he wasn't supposed to make Jefferson happy today, however, and so he fell silent and finished drying the dishes Jefferson passed him.  
  
"So, do you watch House of Cards?" Jefferson asked.  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Do you watch Elementary?"  
  
"No."  
  
"How about American Pickers?"  
  
"Uh-uh."  
  
"Okay, what about soap operas?"  
  
"Gross, no."  
  
"What the hell do you watch?"  
  
"I like the WWII specials on the History Channel, or I'll watch documentaries on Netflix and Amazon."  
  
"Nerd."  
  
Alex elbowed Jefferson, "Excuse you. I am not a nerd."  
  
"You watch documentaries voluntarily, for fun. You're a nerd pipsqueak." He shot Alex a smirk and brushed passed him to put away the plates they'd used. "Just accept it."  
  
Alex huffed and didn't reply, dropping the argument in favor of looking out the window at the snow that had built up overnight. It was supposed to get worse today, or tonight maybe? It didn't look so bad to him.  
  
Too bad John wasn't here. Despite being grown men, they'd go out and play around in the snow like overgrown kids; and it'd last a little while after Alex's coughing fits started up. When he could get away with it, Alex would take a puff of his inhaler and tough it out a little while longer for the sake of their fun. Afterward, he'd hide away under twenty blankets with hot tea and a space heater to make up for the cold he'd subjected his body to.  
  
Now, he hated the cold. He HATED it. But that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun in the snow now and then.  
  
A tap on his shoulder pulled him from his thoughts, and Alex startled, whipping his head around to find Jefferson staring at him. "You spaced out there a bit. Uh, the sun is still shining a bit, and you'll blind yourself if you keep staring at it."  
  
"No, I won't." Petulant, stubborn, or however you wanted to describe his response. To escape an argument about how childish he was, Alex mumbled that he was going to shower and he'd be back whenever.  
  
He had half a mind of using all of the hot water, just to piss Jefferson off, unless the man had already showered today. The warmth was a nice change, and Alex melted under the spray that beat against his back and the back of his neck. If he dozed a second or two, no one needed to know. He scrubbed up with what little there was in there, and after dressing again trudged back down the stairs and to the living room, where he found Jefferson watching the weather.  
  
"How bad?" he asked, still rubbing the towel over his hair.  
  
Jefferson hardly looked up, "It's already knocking down branches and telephone poles west of here. The storm will hit us in an hour or two." He pushed himself up to his feet. "You're going to help me gather wood from outside, flashlights, blankets, and turn on any faucets--just in case we've shut any off, and so on. We need to be ready for this thing because it's going to be a doozy."  
  
"Do you have a hair dryer or something to finish drying my hair off? I don't want to go outside if my head is still damp."  
  
Jefferson motioned for Alex to follow him. He opened a hall closet and tugged out their coats and scarves, with an extra scarf and hat for Alex to use while they were outside. "It'll only take a minute or two to grab the stuff. You won't freeze to death. Promise."  
  
They dressed themselves, and Alex tossed on his shoes--which were not meant for trekking in the snow. He followed Jefferson outside to a wood pile about fifty or so feet away from the house. Jefferson piled a stack in Alex's arms, and Alex turned to carry it back to the house. Jefferson followed a moment later. They each made two more trips to make sure they wouldn't have to come back out here for anymore.  
  
"Okay, upstairs there's a closet between my room and a guest room. I store the blankets in there. Grab them and set them in the living room and I'll collect the flashlights and batteries and things. I've got a gas-fueled space heater in the garage, but I'd rather not use it if we can help it." He turned away and headed for the kitchen.  
  
After a moment, Alex shrugged off his layers and put them away before he ran the errand that Jefferson was sending him on. Rather than carrying a huge stack down the stairs and risk breaking his neck, Alex just tossed them to the bottom of the staircase before he made one more trip to grab the next stack. Jefferson happened to walk by as Alex was throwing his second and last stack to the bottom floor.  
  
He stopped dead in his tracks, a small flashlight resting between his teeth. "Hamlfton? Bwat are you doin'?" he asked behind the small device.  
  
"I didn't want to fall while carrying these downstairs and so I threw them to the bottom to collect when I got down there." Jefferson rolled his eyes and went on to the living room with his armload of stuff. "Yes, thank you for taking blankets with you," Alex muttered. He collected a handful of them and followed after Jefferson, stacking them in the arm chair as he collected them.  
  
"Mmmkay, what next?"  
  
Jefferson shrugged, "Entertain yourself."  
  
Yes, because that helped Alex figure out what to do with his time for the day.

 


	5. Alright, DAD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cuddles.  
> 'Nuf said.

Stay a While 5: How to Entertain an Overgrown Child  
  
  
Alex went to the kitchen and made another cup of coffee for himself and, because he was feeling generous and wanted something to do, brought a mug of mint tea to Jefferson. Jefferson wouldn't complain, and he teased Alex about dressing up as a maid or houseboy. That earned him a rude gesture with Jefferson laughing at his expression and reaction. Alex was, understandably, not amused.  
  
When they both settled in for the afternoon, Jefferson had made himself at home with his book, leaving Alex to fetch his laptop and get a little bit of work done. For once, they were silent around each other, and it wasn't silent because they were quietly fuming over something the other did. They were like this for a good hour or two, until the power began to flicker. Jefferson stood and went to the window, pulling back the heavy black-out curtains to find that the storm had finally hit them, and hit hard.  
  
"Well, I had better bring in more wood." He dropped the curtains back into place and left the room. He came back a few minutes later with another stack of wood which he dropped into a basket by the fireplace. "Need anything while I'm up Hamilton?"  
  
Alex didn't register that Jefferson was talking to him at first, but then he jerked his head up to stare at the man. "Mm? Sorry, what?"  
  
"I asked if you needed anything while I was up," he grumbled.  
  
Alex tried not to appreciate how Jefferson looked with the fire behind him. The lights hadn't gone out just yet, but Alex was sure that it would look like a beautiful aura around him. "Um, no. No, I'm fine." There was an awkward pause as Jefferson went back to his chair. "Do you, uh, do you need anything?"  
  
Jefferson raised a brow, looking over his shoulder to see if Alex was joking. Alex wasn't, and he was trying to hide his blush from the attention. "No, but thank you."  
  
They dropped it, and Alex stood to plug in his computer to charge it with what power they still had while Jefferson made himself comfortable in his chair again, book in hand. When Alex returned, he had to force himself into motion, not to stop a moment and appreciate how Jefferson looked when he was still, relaxed, and content. The guy was so boisterous at work. It was a shock here.  
  
Time passed slowly, and the power only lasted another thirty minutes, before they were left in darkness, with only the fire to provide light for them. When that was all they had left, Jefferson joined Alex on the couch, tossing a blanket over the both of them.  
  
"Um, what are you doing?"  
  
"Better to start keeping warm now while we can before the room gets too cold and we're shivering."  
  
Alex tried not to squirm around to put space between them. It wasn't what he needed right now; the closeness would only make him a nervous wreck when it was exactly where he wanted to be but shouldn't. He was stiff as a board, and they both knew it, but neither brought it up, much to Alex's relief. Thomas was reading again, and Alex didn't know how he could in this lighting, when they weren't sitting closer to the fire. He was jealous that the guy could, and that he couldn't unless he took a different seat elsewhere. So, he sat there quietly and stared at his empty mug on the coffee table.  
  
The warmth of Jefferson next to him, the lingering heat from the air system before the power went out, and the dim lighting, had him nodding off, until he slumped over onto Jefferson, sleeping peacefully. Maybe he needed this break to relax and catch up on sleep after all, though he would never admit it. He couldn't without someone being smug about it. Oh well, that was future Alex's problem.  
  
\--  
  
Thomas hated to admit how beautiful the younger man was in this light, hated how his soft and youthful features were highlighted by the fire's glow. It was unfair to look that gorgeous. Seeing him clean-shaven and with short hair was still different, and he hadn't grown used to it yet. There was a bit of shadow cropping up from not taking care of it earlier, but it wasn't enough to age him. He watched Hamilton out of the corner of his eyes rather than read the book in his hands. The view was more impressive anyway.  
  
What was a surprise, was when Hamilton went limp and slumped over on him, out cold. Thomas tried not to jostle him as he carefully removed Hamilton's glasses and set them on the side table. After that, he wrapped an arm around him and tugged the blanket up to keep Hamilton covered. He tried that a few minutes, but his arm grew tired, and he was struggling to read like this. Who could concentrate when there was a lovely man asleep on them?  
  
Finally, Thomas set the book down on the arm of the couch, grabbed a decorative pillow, and started leaning back onto it. He was careful, moved slowly, and brought Hamilton down with him to lay on his chest. Thomas had to stretch to grab another blanket from the back of the couch and toss it over them to trap more heat. He could get used to this view. Too bad the man couldn't stop talking and yelling at him. Thomas, smiling sadly, reached behind him to retrieve the book on the arm to keep reading.  
  
They lay like this for an hour before Hamilton stirred. His face turned into Thomas's neck, and the gentle breath of air tickled his neck. He couldn't fight the slight snort; the sensation tickled at first. Finally, Hamilton seemed to melt into him, although now Thomas was being nuzzled. Hamilton shifted around on him, getting comfortable and wiggling around until he was satisfied. Thomas, however, was suddenly not satisfied. He shuddered and tried not to move, hoping beyond hope that Hamilton didn't wake right at that moment. It would be awkward, and Hamilton would never let him live it down.  
  
Thomas tried to adjust Hamilton  
  
He looked confused about being horizontal, and on top of something warm. Thomas noted the marks on his cheek from where Thomas's shirt had rumpled under Hamilton's face. Cute. When Hamilton finally started to pick up on where he was, he slowly shifted to look up at Thomas, who had been watching him silently.  
  
"Mornin' sleeping beauty." Thomas's lips twitched up to a smirk. "About time you stop talking for a few minutes and slow down."  
  
Hamilton didn't respond right away, still trying to register what had happened, and how he got here. Also, why Thomas would let him sleep on top of him like this to begin with? "Um." He wanted to be offended by the comment but didn't have it in him from his shock.  
  
Well said Thomas thought with a silent laugh. "Comfortable or do you need another blanket?"  
  
"I--I uh--I think I'm okay." Hamilton's voice was a little higher pitched, which was downright hilarious to Thomas, who had to fight back his laughter.  
  
"Good. Because you're not staying up there forever."  
  
Hamilton laughed at that. "Oh really? What, going to shove me onto the floor or--" He let out a shrill yelp as Thomas started to do exactly that, but then Hamilton never found himself on the floor. Thomas had only teased him, had never let go to let him fall.  
  
"Don't give me any ideas, pipsqueak." He was smug at the accomplishment of making Hamilton panic for a moment.  
  
"What the hell?" Hamilton huffed and pouted like a child, turning his face away to glare at the back of the couch rather than look at Thomas. "Asshole," he grumbled.  
  
Thomas shifted beneath him and wrapped his arms around Hamilton's waist. "Stop moving."  
  
Hamilton followed the order, falling still and silent for a moment. "Are you cuddling me?"  
  
"Mmhmm. You're warm, if a bit bony."  
  
"That's not the only bone you'll--never mind." Thomas could see the color spreading over Hamilton's ear, and put two and two together. Oh. Did Alexander Hamilton almost make a dick joke? Thomas cracked up, chest shaking as he tightened his hold on the smaller man in his arms. He laughed harder when Hamilton glared up at him. "What?" His blush was worse.  
  
"You made a dick joke. You are so crass! How on earth did you--wait, no. I know how you could--" Thomas started laughing again, and he swore he saw Hamilton smile a little as he watched Thomas enjoy himself. "I never thought I'd hear you tell one, not away from your friends, anyway."  
  
"Yeah, well, sometimes things change. I don't have to watch what I say when I'm around you, asshole." Back to name calling then. Thomas could work with that.  
  
"Sure, Hamilton, tell yourself that." Thomas adjusted himself and then adjusted Hamilton on top of him. "Now shut up and go to sleep."  
  
"Alright, _Dad_." Thomas definitely did NOT shiver when Hamilton used that name. Not at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry about my lack of updates. I've been stupid slow and out of muses. The semester is over with and I'm still job hunting.  
> 


	6. Raisin Bran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to write anything. I'm slow and haven't had much of a muse for anything. ^^'

Alex woke first in the morning and burrowed in closer to the warm body beneath him. How could this one asshole feel like such a furnace? He was surely going to melt under all of these blankets.  
  
But one look at the sleeping face of his current "bed," and Alex couldn't find it in himself to care. He wished he could reach his phone; he'd snap a picture of this moment to remember this quiet and sweet event for years to come. Like he'd ever get the chance to see this again.  
  
A hand came up and started combing through his hair, and Alex finally did melt. If humans could purr, he'd sound like an engine. Few things felt better than someone's fingers in his hair, playing with his wavy locks or massaging his scalp. Humming, he relaxed back into the warm body, eyes drifting shut in contented bliss.  
  
"Like a cat," Thomas muttered.  
  
Alex could only grunt at him, hoping he'd shut up and continue to play in his hair. If he weren't hungry and didn't need to use the bathroom so badly, he'd probably try to go back to sleep again. This was peaceful, and it made him incredibly happy, surprisingly. He wished it could last.  
  
They lay like that for a time, until Alex couldn't hold it any longer and was starting to ache from not going to the bathroom. He hated to raise the blankets and leave the comfort of the warm and pliant body beneath him, but nature calls, and it was kicking him in the kidneys for not listening to them. Alex smirked at the undignified squawk when he suddenly lifted the blankets, letting in the cool air that made him shiver.  
  
"Brat."  
  
"You wouldn't have me any other way."  
  
"My foot up your ass would be a start."  
  
"That the only thing you'd try to put there? Didn't know you were so kinky." He flashed Thomas a fleeting smirk as he rounded the corner, leaving Thomas there to process his second dick joke. It was terrible, but Alex had tried his best. He was tired, what could you expect from him?  
  
He came back to find Thomas missing and followed the sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. Alex found Thomas making two bowls of cereal with the half frozen milk. Were those...? "Is that a box of raisin bran? That is like, the most Old Man kind of cereal you could have bought. Where are the lucky charms? The cocoa puffs?"  
  
"I'm dull and boring," Thomas said, deadpan expression in place as he stared Alex down.  
  
"Hey, you said it." Alex took the cereal he was offered and covered it with sugar to give it some flavor before he sat down and began to eat. "You know, I used to hate raisins. I was always scared they were tiny bugs or something."  
  
Thomas had just taken his first bite but stopped chewing to look down at his bowl with disgust. "Really?" He didn't want to eat it now.  
  
"Really, really."  
  
"Don't use Shrek references on me."  
  
"Gonna make me?"  
  
"Maybe."


	7. Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cold is getting to Alex  
> Soft boys are soft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had asked on my Tumblr if there was a fic or series someone wanted me to prioritize an update for, and the lovely hopiedo1 requested this fic. Thank you for helping me decided on a few things sweetie, I really appreciate it. :0)
> 
> Enjoy guys!

After breakfast, they both went upstairs to wash up the best they could. It was freezing up there, and Alex started having problems with his asthma by the time he came downstairs.

He was in something of Thomas' this time, although Alex didn't know it until he already pulled it on. He'd die of embarrassment if Thomas found out that Alex had held the neck of the sweater up to his nose to breathe in the smell of laundry detergent and the lingering scent of Thomas. It was heavenly. He hugged himself tightly as he padded down the stairs and made his way to the sitting room again. The fire was strong and bright again; Thomas must have built it up again. Good. Because Alex thought he'd shrivel up if it got any colder.

Snatching his inhaler and glasses from the coffee table, he took his medicine and slipped the dark frames over his face. Better. Hopefully. Knowing he needed to warm up and quickly, Alex grabbed two blankets and curled up in front of the fire. If nothing else, he had to keep his chest and neck warm.

Thomas must have either heard him coming down the stairs or the stifled coughs because he came in a moment later holding an old iron kettle...thing. Without a word, he put something over the edge of the fire and hung the kettle from it. It was only when he saw Alex's confused look that he said something.

"It's this, or I pull out an old camping hotplate, and I'd rather not light up a tin of fuel, thank you very much." He scooted back to sit next to Alex. "I'll heat up some Campbell's later for lunch and dinner. It won't be gourmet, but it'll be warm."

Alex only nodded and tugged the blankets tighter around himself. He tried to stifle the coughs, knowing it'd freak Thomas out, and only made slight shaking motions and huffs into the blankets. Sadly, Thomas was not fooled and scooted back a little more before lifting Alex into his lap. The smaller man tensed and lost his grip on the blankets a moment. When Thomas had the man where he wanted him, he removed Alex's blankets and wrapped them about both of them. 'Conserve body heat,' he'd mumbled again. Alex couldn't find it in him to care.

He was warm and comfortable under all of the layers and curled up in Thomas' lap. Too bad this wouldn't last.

Alex stopped trying to silence the coughs and let them happen. He may as well just get the fretting over with, as it wouldn't get too much better for the rest of the day. Sure, it wouldn't get worse, but he'd still be wracked with coughs that tore at his throat, it seemed. Thomas always tensed behind him when a coughing fit struck, and only removed Alex from his lap to go back to the fire to finish the tea they needed.

It was a simple chamomile with honey, nothing fancy, but it soothed the ache building in Alex's throat. He took the offered mug gratefully and sipped slowly. The liquid warmed him from the inside out, and Alex shivered at the feeling. If only he could feel that warm for the rest of the day.

They grabbed their books and read in silence, but not before Thomas was on the couch with Alex pressed to his side. Alex wasn't used to such slow weekends, to staying still and this quiet for such a long time. Thomas seemed less on edge than he did at work; Alex could finally spot the difference in behavior. It was startling if he were honest. To see this man who put on an air of exaggerated confidence at work or if they ran into each other on the street look so at ease. There was so much peace in the way he moved and slouched—it still pissed him off that the man could look so gracefully dignified and posh, even slouching.  
  
"I can feel you staring munchkin." Alex blinked when dark eyes flicked over to meet his gaze. Thomas seemed both unamused and curious—maybe slightly fond—but he wasn't complaining that Alex was staring, at least. "I know I'm beautiful, but please try to control yourself."  
  
And if that wasn't the understatement of the century. The man was gorgeous, and here Alex was, curled up beside him like there was nothing weird or different about it. Especially when the man beside him exuded heat like an electric blanket.  
  
Alex didn't drop his gaze for a moment until he finally glanced down at his hand and fiddled with the blanket. He wiggled closer into Thomas' side, "You're warm, and it's weird that we aren't killing each other."  
  
"Why's it weird?" Thomas didn't seem to mind that Alex was snuggling him and actually tightened his hold around him. "We're all adults here."  
  
Alex only hummed and went back to his book. He didn't know how to reply, how to explain that the lack of noise and insults was just...quiet. That explained it. "Normally we're at each other's throats within two minutes of being in the same room—so, yeah. That's why."  
  
His companion said nothing, shifting only to squeeze Alex slightly as he focused on his book again. Pride and Prejudice, Alex noted.  
  
The quiet, the warmth, the tip tip tip of snow hitting the frozen piles of white outside, and the darkness lulled Alex into a sense of peace and comfort. Once more, he found himself dozing on the warm body beside him. He'd missed this, having a body beside him that he could curl up with; this only reminded him of how lonely he actually was, and of how it hurt to be this close to the object of his pining and yet feel so distant.  
  
He could worry about it later.


	8. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're getting what you wanted. Finally.

When he woke again, they were horizontal again, but instead of Alex on top of Thomas, Thomas was pressed against the back of the couch and spooning Alex. The fire had gone low, but it was still giving off a sense of warmth. He lay there for a while, enjoying the warmth and cuddling, but then he decided he needed to go wash up a little.  
  
What water could still come through the pipes was freezing cold with no power to warm it, and Alex left it shivering. Maybe he should use that pot Thomas had for tea to warm up water next time and just wash off the essentials. Never again, he silently promised. Alex dried his hair the best he could with the towel, knowing he could build a fire back up again and sit with his back to it to dry the rest.  
  
Wearing another pair of James' boxers and the sweats he'd worn the day before, Alex snuck into Thomas' room and stole a shirt and sweater. Holy shit it was warm. He wondered briefly what the material was and then decided that he didn't care. It was comfortable and warm, and that's all that mattered.  
  
When he came downstairs, Thomas was still asleep, so Alex slipped into the kitchen to grab two bowls, an iron pot, a little water, and two packs of instant oatmeal; he figured he could make it over the fire. Thomas slept through Alex's noisy breakfast making, and Alex wanted his secret to sleeping that heavily. Only when he was finished with the oatmeal and set it on the coffee table did Alex sit on the couch by Thomas' hip and start to shake him awake.  
  
"Oi. Old man, wake up." Thomas didn't budge, didn't even flinch at Alex shaking him. Frowning, Alex continued, loudly calling for Thomas to get his old, wrinkly ass up because his food was going cold and Alex wouldn't have any pity on him if he missed it.  
  
"Call me old, one more time," the sleepy form grumbled. It didn't sound as threatening as he wanted, with how his accent was heavier and a little slurred. Alex didn't look scared at all, just smug.  
  
"You, sir, are an OLD FART." He yelped when Thomas yanked his arm and tugged Alex back down to lay next to him.  
  
"That's it. You're demoted to body pillow."  
  
"If my breakfast gets cold because of you, I will smother you with one of these fancy $300 pillows of yours."  
  
"They're $387 a piece. Get it right, peasant." Thomas only gripped tighter around Alex, and then threw a leg over him to hold his legs down; he didn't want Alex flailing. "Now lay still and lemme sleep."  
  
Alex, of course, did the opposite, and wiggled around as much as possible to disturb Thomas' attempts to go back to sleep. "I wanna eat breakfast. I'm hungry." Thomas suddenly let go of him, and Alex tumbled to the floor with an 'oof.' "Rude."  
  
"Shut up and eat your breakfast. Lemme sleep."  
  
Alex got a terrible idea and inhaled his meal before hopping onto the couch to sit on Thomas. "Wake up before I squish you."  
  
"You're not heavy enough to squish a bug, let alone me." Thomas glared at the smaller man, but Alex wasn't deterred.  
  
"Is that a challenge?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Pretty sure it was a challenge."  
  
"Alex, it is NOT a chall--" Alex cut him off by flopping forward, startling a huff out of Thomas. "Asshole."  
  
"Mmhmm, wouldn't have me any other way either. I'd be too boring."  
  
"I wish you were boring. I might actually get something done at work for a change." Alex squirmed, trying to annoy Thomas as much as possible. It worked because they both fell off the couch in a heap and startled shouts. Thomas glared down at the man he'd squished to the ground, "You asked for this, remember that."  
  
With that, Thomas dropped all of his weight onto Alex's abdomen and legs, pinning the poor guy beneath him. "Thomas, get off, you asshole!"  
  
"Hm, no, I don't think I will. You're a scrawny and boney pillow, but I can work with that." Rude.  
  
They glared at each other, silent. Alex wasn't sure if he wanted to strangle the man or kiss him; Thomas was torn between crushing him and kissing the hell out of him. Neither knew this about the other, of course, but that didn't mean that they couldn't dream.  
  
Until they didn't.  
  
Alex's face softened, and Thomas' followed.  
  
"You really should eat, Thomas."  
  
"Says the stick." Alex swatted his arm, but it didn't stop the smile on his face as Thomas shifted to rest his chin on Alex's belly and lay between his legs. They did nothing but stare for a moment. Then, Alex reached out and poked Thomas' nose.  
  
"Seriously. I slaved over a fire to make that oatmeal. You'd better eat it." Thomas groaned dramatically and sat up.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Alex cleaned up the mess while Thomas ate his now cold bowl of oatmeal. He wondered how he was going to wash this without trying to stick his hands under the ice cold water again. He was still cold from that shower, which Thomas noticed when Alex tried to stop a shiver.  
  
"Are those my clothes?" Not what he meant to ask, but that too.  
  
"Maybe...maybe not. Either way, they're warm." He flashed him a smirk and adjusted the sweater.  
  
"About time you wear something fashionable...even if it is too big." That earned him another swat to the arm. It only made Thomas laugh, and he reached out to swat him back. "Fine, you actually don't look half bad in them."  
  
This had Alex blushing, but batting his eyes dramatically. "Why Mr. Jefferson...Are you complimenting me? Who would have thought." Never mind that Thomas had told him about the contest and how Alex was put on the ballot for kicks; he forced himself to not think about it again. It had been a simple joke, nothing more.  
  
"I'd compliment your more often if I knew you wouldn't throw a fit and insult me for it."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Neither said anything for a moment until Alex finally figured out a way to respond. "Thank you."  
  
"You're...welcome."  
  
Alex managed to clean the pot and dishes, but Thomas ushered him back into the living room to sit in front of the fire. "You're an idiot for leaving your hair wet this long."  
  
"Not like I could use a hair dryer or anything..."  
  
"You could have dried it more with another towel or something." He pushed Alex down to sit and forced him to turn his back to the fire to let his hair finish drying. It was a little awkward, to have Thomas playing in his hair and trying to pamper him.  
  
However, he enjoyed watching Thomas' concentrated look. It was almost cute, to see how he squinted a little when he was thinking and focused. Add to it the fire throwing the beginnings of laugh lines around his eyes into shadow, the warm color of his skin, everything, and Alex found himself unable to look away.  
  
\--  
  
Thomas finally noticed Alex staring at him and met his eyes; neither could look away as everything seemed to softened around them. He could have sworn he saw Alex's eyes flick to his lips. A few moments later and it happened again. Thomas definitely wasn't dreaming this. Reaching up carefully, he gently brushed a lock of hair back and leaned in.  
  
He watched as Alex shivered; whether it was from the cold or from what outcome they were rushing towards with no way of stopping. They both continued forwards until they were a breath away.  
  
"Thomas." It was a weak breath, a plea.  
  
He was happy to give.  
  
Thomas closed the distance between them, lips pressing to Alex's and hand moving behind his head to drag him closer. It still wasn't close enough, but this was so much like a breath of fresh air, that Thomas couldn't bring himself to complain. Not when he had the smaller, soft man right here, wanting to be in his arms just as much as Thomas wanted to be in his. Soft, warm, gentle. He didn't want it to end.


	9. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power of hot water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sort of a filler/transition, so it's kinda teeny. I'm sorry about that.

They spent their day doing nothing productive, just playing cards or reading or cuddling. Or kissing. That part was nice. Neither took it anywhere; both were concerned about taking it too far, even if they did want to jump headfirst under the sheets. For their current circumstance, they decided to wait it out.  
  
This didn't mean that they weren't wishless happy.  
  
Thomas snapped a few pictures of them on his phone with what battery he had left, especially when Alex dozed off. He was adorable when he was out cold.  
  
The power came back on that night at around two am, startling them awake when bright lights shone into their eyes. Huffing, Alex trudged over to the light switch and turned them back off before going back to crawl under the blankets with Thomas. They decided to not talk about it until morning.  
  
\--  
  
A hot shower. Alex could enjoy a hot shower and holy shit this was like heaven. Having Thomas help him wash his hair was a nice bonus. He practically melted under those hands and hummed quietly. Alex could feel Thomas laugh behind him, the amused rumble against his back causing him to smile.  
  
"Someone is spoiled."  
  
"Not my fault," Alex mumbled with a contented sigh. Could he just...live like this? Thomas' hands in his hair, warm chest at his back, and warm water at his front. Shit, this was heaven.  
  
"I can stop at any time." Alex shot him a look over his shoulder, daring him to even think about stopping this delightful spoil treatment.  
  
"Keep going, and I'll massage your back later."  
  
Thomas snorted and playfully tugged Alex's hair, "So scratch your back, and you'll scratch mine?"  
  
"Mmhmm."  
  
"Do I not even deserve an actual answer?"  
  
"I'll think about it."  
  
"You're an asshole."  
  
"But I'm your asshole."  
  
"True."


	10. TBDL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few questions

Hey guys!

 

I'm doing a Q&A project for class and need questions about my writing process or the stories themselves. Can y'all comment with a question or two for me please?

**Author's Note:**

> Can you guys tell I like the aborted kiss in favor of being a turd trope?  
> hmu on tumblr at ixhadbadxdays.


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